I know a young lady called Heather
Who being light as a feather
Wears not
A lot
When the weather
Is hot
As we walk together
Through the heather …
Category Archives: poems
Ought
Ought
I to consort
With the hot
Thought?
Perhaps not
But there is no harm
In a thought …
The charm
Of her
Bare
Arm …
A mere thought.
Ought I?
Ought I not?
On this hot
Day.
The way
Is full of roses, and who will roses spurn
But roses to weeds may turn
And the heart is ofte times torn
By many a lethal thorn.
Grime Music Star Stormzy To Help Young Writers Get Published
The Grime music star, Stormzy, has launched his own publishing brand, Murky Books, in collaboration with Penguin.
The aim of Murky Books is to help young writers to get published in a variety of genres, fiction, sci-fi and poetry.
To find out more please visit this link, https://news.sky.com/story/stormzy-to-help-young-writers-become-published-authors-with-penguin-11427689
Lucifer Came
Lucifer came for a potentate bold.
He said “you have had power and wealth untold,
Now you must render me your immortal soul”.
The potentate sighed,
And made reply,
“My soul it died,
you will find nothing inside.
It perished long ago,
And vanished like the summer snow.
Once I had ideals,
and yearned to build utopia in green fields.
I have waded in much blood,
And sacrificed the weak for the common good.
My soul you had long ago.
I take your hand,
Now let us go”.
—
When writing the above poem, I had in mind the famous quote of Lord Acton:
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.”
“The Potentate” can be found in my collection entitled “Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”, http://moyhill.com/lost/. “Lost” can also be found in the Amazon Kindle store, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AF5EPVY/
An Elderly Squire Called Guy
An elderly squire called Guy
Held Tory views most high.
He lived in the countryside,
Opposed democracy’s rising tide
And shot all the birds that fly!
There Was A Young Lady Called Lin
There was a young lady called Lin
Who was wholly free of sin.
I knew her well
And strange to tell
I could never make her sin!
There Was A Young Man Called Mick
There was a young man called Mick
Who carried a very big stick.
At dead of night
We had a fight
And Mick he lost his stick!
There was a young man called Mick
Who carried a very big stick.
A policewoman named Jane
Said “It gives me great pain
To confiscate that stick!”.
As I Grow Older
As I grow older
Father Time
Taps me on my shoulder
With his scythe
And says “this rhyme
May survive,
Or perchance another one
After you are gone”.
There Was A Young Lady Called Ling
There was a young lady called Ling
With whom I had a fling.
My girlfriend Kate
Joined our date
In the midst of the budding spring.
There was a young lady called Ling
With whom I had a fling.
My girlfriend Kate
Whacked me with a plate.
Oh love, tis a painful thing!
the 4th of July Is …
4 July is, of course best known for being American Independence Day. But enough of such trivia, for any school child can inform you that today is the day when America broke away from the United Kingdom!
Of far more importance to me than the above, is the fact that, on 4 July 2011, I became the proud owner of my 4th guide dog, Trigger, a beautiful brindle Labrador/retriever cross. Trigger goes everywhere with me, whether that be into restaurants, the office or the pub. I hasten to add that, in the case of the latter, I strongly dislike pubs and it is my four-legged friend who drags me into such dens of iniquity on an all to frequent basis …!
Joking apart, Trigger does a wonderful job and safely conducts me through busy London streets.
Given today’s date, I wanted to share 2 poems about Trigger. The first is entitled “The Hungry Hound”, while the second is called “To My Dog Trigger, Who Lay On My Book”.
—
“I am Trigger.
My stomach is bigger
Than you think.
Your lunch will be gone in the blink
Of an Eye.
Then away I fly.
Should you ask “who stole my lunch?” I reply
“Nnot I
But, dear reader, I lie …!..
I have been known to eat plastic.
My reach is elastic.
You think your food Safe?
My friend brace
Yourself for a shock
For I will gobble the lot!
Be it ever so hot!”.
—
You lay on my book.
Perhaps you mistook
It for a bone
And discovering your mistake, left it alone!
You creased it’s pages.
Oh the ages
I took
To write that book!
You lay on my book
But look
I have many more,
And ‘twas entirely my fault for
I should not have left it on the floor!
Dogs have such short lives
While the poet’s work survives
Long after master and friend
Have come to their end.
You lay on my book,
My faithful old mutt”.


